"And did they never stick the poor man together again?"
"Never. His head now rests beside the fountain basin in the lower garden, and bits of his body and legs are in a heap against yon wall."
"Poor man, poor man! and the ivy is taking his place: one spray is growing right across the opening where he stood."
"I've oft thought I should like to climb up and get in the niche and see what the garden and park look like from there, but the ivy is not strong enough."
"Oh, no, no, Hugh—you must not! You'd be killed; and then what should I do?" And in her eagerness Cecily clasped her cousin's arm.
"Nay, I don't think I shall," replied Hugh, laughing. "I have no hankering for a broken neck; and, besides, you could not come with me, and it would be no sport alone."
"No, don't go. It must be much nicer down here than being like that poor broken man was up there."
"Well, Cecily, I don't feel much like an image just now, for there's the horn for dinner, and I'm hungry. Let us go." And scrambling to their feet the two happy children raced across the grass to the house, and left Abbot Swincow and the empty niche bathed in the midday sunshine.
(To be continued.)